


Meditation

by GraceEliz



Series: The Eldritch Collection [8]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Meditation, Post-Episode: s03e17 Ghosts of Mortis, The Force, in which the Force is described lovingly, mildly Eldritch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceEliz/pseuds/GraceEliz
Summary: They find Obi-Wan where they expected to: meditating, crossed-legged, his lightsaber slowly twirling about him as the stars flicker. Anakin is almost forcibly thrust into memories of his Master sitting like this on past missions, many past missions, drifting with the Force as they zip through the universe.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: The Eldritch Collection [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992514
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Meditation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artikka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artikka/gifts).



They find Obi-Wan where they expected to: meditating, crossed-legged, his lightsaber slowly twirling about him as the stars flicker. Anakin is almost forcibly thrust into memories of his Master sitting like this on past missions, many past missions, drifting with the Force as they zip through the universe.

“Master?”

“Sweetheart, little one,” their Master greets without opening his eyes. “Have you come to meditate?”

“Yes,” says Ahsoka, sitting as close to Obi-Wan as she can get and trilling gently when he tugs her close. Anakin too sits, draping himself over his family (brother-father and sister, whispers something inside him) in the search for warmth. Space is cold, still, even after all the years he’s spent away from the scorching oven of his childhood.

Obi-Wan hums, the Force a gentle swell around him of Light, serene and gentle, like sunshine being reflected by a lake, all stillness and majestic beauty. “Come, then.”

They sink together slowly, balancing each other out wonderfully as lineages often do, curling around each other. Careful, he keeps himself contained to the ship, well aware of how freaky things could get topside when he gets too deep. Threads of life come flicking and darting; a bright burst there of joy, a sudden swoop there of sorrow and undirected rage quickly untethered. Down in the hold, the almost meditative focus of sparring brothers, their Signatures beautiful in their difference. He dances along the bridges of Force between ship and self; over the voids and emptiness of empty rooms, down and down into the engines where everything is running as perfectly smoothly as he left it. For time and time he lets himself flow there, feeling how the Force follows the engineers as they work and the way that the un-alive engines come, so briefly, into razor-focus under their hands. Knots in his soul come untied, tension eroded by the constant move and push and pull and twist, until he feels himself more than he has in weeks.

The ascent up to his body is an amble, as easy and unhurried as a ramble with Grandmother Nu through old bookshops, stopping to listen to laughter or to feel the pulsing exertion of the spars in the hold. It’s funny, though, he notes: Ahsoka is as gentle and light as ever up in the bridge like a glowing lantern, but Obi-Wan seems ever so slightly greyer, less like bright midday sun and more like the weak early daylight, and larger too as though he’s somehow diffused. Anakin himself is a touch darker and he nudges at the miasma of it, bewildered by its continued presence and the fact it seems to be harmless, like skin pigmentation. He has always been reasonably sure the Force doesn’t pigment.

When he rises up fully, before the other two who have always enjoyed meditating quietly a bit more than him, he is disconcerted almost enough to dive down once more. If he didn’t know any better he would say he saw the shadow of two beasts behind his Master, four wings a cradle and two tails the rising curls of the symbol of the Order, and shadowed below the mirage Ahsoka almost a ghost, but he blinks, and it is gone. Where he could have thought he saw scales is only flickering hyperspace, and where he thought stretched long tails only the slow eddies of Force carrying a single saber in gentle loops.


End file.
